“Lucas Davidson!”
A little boy in a yellow polo shirt and blue shorts walked across the stage. He waved out at the assembled crowd the whole way.
Adam didn’t remember first-grade graduations being a thing when he had been in school. Granted, he didn’t remember much of first grade, but he was pretty sure there were no pictures of him in a construction paper mortarboard waiting for his name to be called the way his students were currently doing. He’d heard of other schools doing kindergarten graduations, but Red Creek Elementary went all out for first grade too.
“Emily Drummond!”
Emily hesitated at the edge of the stage. She froze in place, stuck between the principal who stood at the podium with her microphone, the crowd of parents assembled, and Adam, who tried to smile reassuringly as he waggled a paper tube tied in a blue ribbon toward her. They had rehearsed the process the day before.
The ceremony was a school concert masquerading as a graduation; only a short half-hour production in which families and the tiny graduates gathered in the gym at the end of the last day of classes. The students sang a few songs that they had practiced in Adam’s class for the past week. Parents sat in rows of folding chairs. A sea of phones was held up to capture every moment to share with friends and family, or maybe to save for leverage in another ten years when Adam’s students were trying to negotiate for driver’s licenses and extended curfews.
“Hunter Evans!” Hunter tripped coming off the last stair, but then righted himself and was moving again. As rehearsed, he walked across the stage, stopped in the middle and waved to his family, then carried on to accept his diploma from Adam, before coming down the stairs on the other side, mercifully without further incident.
Kyle would have a substantial file of blackmail photos by the time Caroline hit her teens. As she came across the stage, the construction paper graduation cap she’d made as part of a class activity the day before was perched on top of an elaborately braided hairdo. It was complete with multicolored ribbons that swirled around her hair and down her neck.
Adam had told Kyle about the craft the weekend before, but Kyle had been distracted since he’d lost his job. The upheaval of it and Adam’s inevitable professional chaos otherwise known as the end of the school year meant they hadn’t seen each other as often as Adam wanted to over the last few weeks. So Adam had worried, when Caroline had arrived to school that morning with her hair done up, that Kyle might have forgotten about the graduation craft. Adam hadn’t been able to picture how she was supposed to wear her cap on top of the braids and fluttering ribbons, but Kyle had come prepared. Adam had seen him before the ceremony, hovering like a reality-TV stage mom, armed with hair spray, a mouthful of bobby pins, and an array of backup ribbons draped around his neck as he fastened Caroline’s cap in place.
“Caroline Fenton,” the principal called.
Caroline swanned across the stage in full princess mode. Along with her elaborate hair and cap, she was wearing the same purple princess gown she’d worn the first time Adam had gone to dinner at Kyle’s, accessorized with a riot of beaded necklaces in every color, and one shiny green glove that stretched from her fingertips up to her shoulder. As usual, everything about her stood out from the sea of pressed shirts and sundresses that her classmates’ parents had picked out for their children’s big day.
As Caroline made her way across the stage, a shout went out from the back of the room. Kyle’s head popped up from the line of phones. He cheered like Caroline had won an Oscar, and clapped so loudly it echoed through the gym. There were nervous giggles from the assembled parents, then louder laughs. Beside Kyle, an older man—Adam recognized Kyle’s father—clapped reservedly.
Caroline paused center stage and swept into a deep curtsy. Ribbons tumbled forward. Her necklaces rattled together. More people laughed. One woman in the middle of the crowd stood up and joined Kyle and his dad in their applause. Caroline straightened and surveyed the people assembled before her. With a dainty tilt of her princess chin, she glided across the stage to stand in front of Adam. He handed her the tied paper tube of her diploma.
“Your Highness,” he said.
She giggled. “Daddy and I practiced that last night.” She dipped into one final curtsy and slid gracefully past him toward the rest of her graduated classmates. There was another round of smothered laughter from the crowd, and even the principal paused for a moment to watch Caroline’s descent from the stage before resuming with the roll call.
“Harvey Ferguson!”
After the ceremony, there was a short reception, organized by the parents’ association. Grown-ups drank iced tea, and kids ran around in controlled six-year-old chaos as games of tag broke out in the gym. As he chatted with parents, Adam kept half an eye on Kyle, who looked tired. Adam knew he was struggling. The few times they had managed to get together, Adam had been able to see the brittleness in Kyle’s smile and the tension in his shoulders. It had reminded him of the way Kyle had held himself when they’d first met. Adam was doing his best to be supportive, but Kyle kept insisting he was fine, even though that clearly wasn’t true. Adam hoped that, with the school year over, he’d be able to convince Kyle to let him help.
As the crowd started to thin, he heard another parent say, “Mr. Hathaway.”
Adam turned to find Kyle and his dad standing there, paper cups in their hands.
“Kyle, hi!” There was a half a breath where he started toward Kyle to hug him, but the nervous way Kyle tilted his head made Adam pause.
“Mr. Hathaway, I want to introduce you to my dad.” This time, Adam heard the difference, the formality of the title, instead of the teasing pet name.
“Mr. Fenton, hello! It’s nice to meet you.” Adam held out his hand to shake. Kyle’s dad stared at Adam for what felt like a long time before he took the offered hand and shook firmly.
“You can call me Gord. I’ve heard a lot about you.” His words made Adam’s practiced and professional smile falter a little, while a hint of panic tugged at the corner of Kyle’s dark eyes. Adam recovered first.
“Yes, well,” he said, “I’ve enjoyed having Caroline in my class. She’s bright and . . .” Across the gym, a flash of purple caught his eye as Caroline chased after a classmate, squealing. Her dress fluttered around her, and her hair appeared to have given up the fight and trailed a mass of brown curls and bright ribbons behind her like a comet. “Very memorable,” he finished. Kyle was obviously trying not to laugh now, and Adam resisted the urge to kick him in the shins for not helping out.
“Grandpa!” Like a purple bull in a china shop, Caroline crashed into their group, clinging to her grandfather’s legs. “Let me show you my desk!” She took his hand and pulled him toward the gym door, leaving Kyle and Adam alone.
They stood for a few seconds in silence. Kyle was wearing a black-and-white T-shirt that said Straight Outta First Grade on it. Adam thought he might spend an afternoon over the summer digging through Kyle’s collection to see what other T-shirt treasures there were.
“I’ve received several compliments about Caroline’s hair and outfit today,” Adam said. Kyle smiled, flashing dimples.
“Thanks! Sorry about the whole Mr. Hathaway bit. My dad. You know. He wanted to meet you and right now’s not . . .” Kyle gestured around them to the noisy gym. “This wasn’t really how I imagined us doing the whole meet-the-parents routine.”
Adam grinned. It wasn’t how he’d imagined it either, but it felt almost symbolic to be doing it here, like they’d crossed a threshold. The school year was over.
“Can I help you clean up or anything?” Kyle asked.
“That’s not necessary,” Adam said.
“I don’t mind. My dad and Caroline will be a bit. I know she’ll want to give him a whole classroom tour.”
Adam considered. On the stage, there was the podium, a number of chairs, and the table where they had laid out the diplomas.
“Come this way,” he said.
They folded up the table and carried it off into the darkened backstage area. Kyle, walking backward, tripped halfway to the storage closet and yelped.
“Are you okay?” Adam set down his end of the table and came around to hold Kyle up while he hopped on one foot.
“It’s fine.”
“Want me to kiss it better?” It was a stupid thing to say, but it didn’t matter once Kyle grinned at him.
“I thought cheesy pickup lines were my area of expertise.”
Adam moved closer toward him. They were mostly hidden by the stage’s curtains, and the urge to kiss Kyle after days of not seeing each other was hard to resist.
“I was thinking we could write a book over the summer. One Hundred Terrible Pickup Lines.”
“My pickup lines are amazing, Mr. Hathaway. It’s only yours that are terrible.”
Adam brushed his lips over Kyle’s. “Missed you this week.”
“Me too. Sorry. It’s been tough since—”
Adam cut his words off with another kiss. The sensation of their mouths on each other’s sent a shiver up his spine. They’d done it. The school year was over. Kyle was no longer the parent of one of Adam’s students.
“What are you doing next week? Wednesday and Thursday?” Kyle wrapped his arms around Adam’s neck.
“Nothing? I’m on holidays for the next two months, in case you missed that whole last-day-of-school thing.” Adam smiled and kissed him again as Kyle’s fingers grazed over the back of his neck where his hair met skin.
“Wanna get away for a couple days? Leave the Bean at home with my dad and hit the road?”
“Away?” Adam warmed. He’d been ready to figure out how to fit himself into Kyle and Caroline’s routine for the summer, but the idea of having Kyle to himself . . . Adam was definitely on board with that.
“Yeah. I have to go to Richmond for a couple days. Thought you might want to come. We could get a hotel, have a fancy dinner, watch pay-per-view, sleep in!” Despite the dim backstage light, Adam could see Kyle’s eyes dancing over that last offering.
“Richmond?” It was farther away than he’d expected to go, and there wasn’t much to do in Richmond. Not that Adam really wanted to play tourist. A bedroom with no chance of being disturbed for twenty-four hours was attraction enough.
“We could drive— You could drive,” Kyle said quickly when Adam raised an eyebrow. “You’re right. The van’s not very road trip worthy. But yeah, we could drive. Check into a hotel and relax. I have a thing on Thursday morning, but other than that, it would be a great chance to spend some time together.” He leaned in to kiss Adam, and there was nothing polite about the kiss this time. It felt like a promise, and Adam wanted to see where that promise led.
“What’s the thing?” he asked between kisses.
“What?” Kyle’s long fingers wove into Adam’s hair and pulled so his mouth could get a better angle.
“What’s the thing on Thursday morning?” Adam tensed as Kyle’s mouth slid down his neck. He enjoyed the thrill of this, as they teetered on the edge of breaking all of his rules. Kyle slid his face into the crook between Adam’s neck and shoulder.
“Don’t get mad until I’ve told you everything, okay?”
Adam froze. What kind of question was that?
“Mad about what?” Usually the answer was a spilled pot of craft glue on the floor, or someone had accidentally hurt a classmate at recess and didn’t want to be blamed for it. Sometimes Adam laughed it off; other times he had to put on his serious Mr. Hathaway voice and talk about accepting responsibility.
Kyle hesitated. There were circles under his eyes, and he wouldn’t quite meet Adam’s gaze.
“What’s wrong?” Adam said.
“I have an interview on Thursday morning.”
“An interview?”
“Yeah.” Kyle’s hands played with the front of Adam’s shirt.
“Like a job interview?” Adam’s mouth was dry.
Kyle made a noise that wasn’t a yes or a no. “I’d say it’s a casual discussion about whether or not a job might exist?”
Adam stiffened as he pieced through what Kyle was saying. “In Richmond?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“That’s like five hours away from here.”
“Six.”
Six hours. Kyle had an interview in a place that would take half a day to drive to. Adam’s parents lived four hours away, and he only went to see them a few times a year. Six hours between him and Kyle would—
“Is it a virtual job?” He hoped it was. It was possible that an employer might want to meet Kyle in person before unleashing him on their internet needs.
Kyle made the same noncommittal noise. “Like I said, it’s not totally clear if there’s a job at all so—”
“But it’s not a job here. And you’re actually considering it?” Adam pulled himself free and stumbled over a stack of blue athletic mats. “You never told me about this. I didn’t know you were looking for jobs out of town.” They hadn’t seen each other much lately, but they’d talked and texted, and Kyle had never mentioned this.
“Because I just found out,” Kyle said. “Shannon called me this morning after I brought Caroline to school.”
“Shannon?”
“Yeah.” Kyle stepped in closer to rest his fingers on Adam’s chest. The gesture was more uncertain than it had been a minute before, and Kyle’s sudden tentativeness made Adam clench his fists to keep from brushing him away. He had to stay calm. This couldn’t be going where Adam thought it was.
“Shannon called,” Kyle continued. “She said she felt bad about having to let me go, and she’d reached out to someone she knew who runs a charity out here. They invited me down to chat. Just a discussion. Please don’t make a big deal about this. I don’t know if there’s an actual job, but if there is, I need to go check it out. I can’t wait around here and hope the perfect opportunity is going to fall in my lap, you know?”
What Adam knew was that the mature thing would be to say that yes, in fact, he understood. He couldn’t quell the uneasy feeling that vibrated through him though. Kyle was leaving, and Adam hadn’t known that it might be a possibility.
“What about the conference center job?” He grabbed onto the mental life raft, and Kyle pierced it with a single shake of his head.
“There was potential there, but they’re not calling back, and I can’t wait around for them to come through. I can’t make my dad support both of us; he already does too much for us.”
“But—” Adam’s heart sank. He could see the exhaustion on Kyle’s face, and suddenly he understood the impossibility of the situation. There was no way for him to argue this without coming across like the asshole, so he tried another approach. “Maybe Rebecca could help. She’s got to know other people she could introduce you to? Or maybe the café’s hiring. They’re always busy! You could work there. It doesn’t have to be permanent, just until you find something else.” Adam couldn’t help the desperation from rising in his voice. He didn’t want to acknowledge what was happening. Kyle was leaving. He was leaving and it might not be this job, but it would be another, and probably soon. It was going to hurt when he went. Adam’s anger mixed with self-recrimination that he had let himself get involved so quickly.
“Adam.” Kyle had stopped reaching for him, and instead wrapped his arms around himself, squashing the big white letters on his T-shirt. “Can we talk about this? Nothing’s decided. I want to see what the charity’s got in mind. It could be good for me, you know? I need to be working for Caroline’s sake, but this could be work I actually want to do. It’s my background. I used to be good at it.”
There it was. Kyle was really leaving.
“So you’re going to go?” Adam said.
“So you’re not going to come?”
Was Kyle still hoping Adam was buying the romantic getaway bit?
“I can’t.”
Kyle frowned, and there was a twist of his head that said he didn’t believe what he’d heard. “You can’t? You said you have no plans for the next two months.”
“I won’t—” Adam meant to say he wouldn’t let Kyle soften the blow by dragging this out, but Kyle cut him off.
“You can’t? Or you won’t?”
Adam bit his lip and shook his head. He didn’t want Kyle to twist his words around on him like that. “Forget it.” He turned to go, before one of them said something they’d regret later.
Kyle’s expression darkened, and he stepped into Adam’s space. “Don’t walk away. You know I have to do this. Caroline needs me; I can’t be some jobless bum sleeping in his dad’s guest room.”
Fuck. Adam felt sick. He was the worst sort of selfish idiot for thinking he had a chance of being what Kyle needed. He’d been kidding himself since the moment Rebecca had talked him into giving Kyle a chance, and now Kyle was going to play the martyr and there was no way for Adam to stop him.
“Look. I understand. You’ve got plans. Plans that don’t involve staying in Red Creek.”
Plans Adam hadn’t let himself think about. He had hoped they could sort out the growing distance between them after school ended, but now it seemed it was already too late.
“Well, it’s not for sure, but I’m not really in a position to pass anything up right now, am I? I never said I was staying in Red Creek, but, Adam—”
“But I am staying. I have a life here. I thought you might . . .” He couldn’t let himself admit the last part, that he’d started to hope Kyle would be part of that life. Speaking the words would only make it all hurt worse than it already did. He hadn’t meant to say any of it, but his emotions were spilling out like a science-class volcano and he didn’t know how to stop.
“What? You want me to live in my dad’s guest room forever?” Kyle’s question made everything inside Adam’s head buzz louder.
“Of course not. But I figured if you moved, it would be a six-minute drive to your new place, not a six-hour one.”
“It’s not that far,” Kyle said. “If we did move to Richmond, you might come visit. We could make it work.” There was a hopeful note in his voice, but the idea stung Adam like he’d been slapped.
“Are you listening to what you’re saying? I’m not some weekend booty call. I’m not going to meet you at some highway service station with your dad so you can trade Caroline off for me like I’m part of a shared custody deal.”
“That’s not fair.” Kyle’s eyes hardened. “I’m asking you to look at this from my perspective. What am I supposed to do?”
“You’re the one who’s not being fair.” Adam’s voice rose. He didn’t care anymore if there was anyone left in the gym to hear him. He’d broken every rule that had protected him for the last two years by getting involved with Kyle, and this was what he got for it. “Where has this been the last few weeks? Why didn’t you tell me that leaving was an option? Why didn’t you let me help you find another way? I offered, but you’re so scared of realizing that this town is where you need to be that you’d pack up everything and move to a place where you have nothing and you’re completely alone.”
“Adam, that’s not what I—”
“I know what you meant. You never wanted to stay here, did you? I’m sorry we’re only a pit stop for you, but you should have thought about what your actions would mean to those of us who want to live here!”
“I asked you to listen. Can you do that, please?” Kyle’s quiet plea only made Adam madder. Kyle should have said something weeks ago, but in any case Adam didn’t want to talk about this. He didn’t want to work it out. He was too hurt, and he wanted Kyle to respond at the same level.
“Did you think about me at all? Or your dad?”
“This has got nothing to do with my dad.”
“Did you consider what this will mean for Caroline?”
Color rose on Kyle’s cheeks as he squared his shoulders and set his jaw. There. Adam had done it. He could see it on Kyle’s face. He’d finally hit a nerve.
“Everything I have done has been for her. Everything from the moment Olivia called to say she was pregnant has been for my daughter. You don’t get to ask me that. Fuck you, Adam.” His voice was lower and meaner than Adam had ever heard it before.
“You already have,” he said. They stared at each other in the dim silence for a minute. Adam’s throat ached and his ears rang.
“So that’s it, then?” Kyle said.
Adam took in his brown eyes, the skinny jeans, the long fingers, and the lips that could be impossibly soft and maddeningly forceful. He was going to miss all of them.
“I think it is.”